


Let's Talk

by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M, Fluff and Humor, High School, Hopeful Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21996004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns/pseuds/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: Oliver was in no partying mood, but maybe an encounter in the kitchen will change his mind.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Oliver Wood
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Let's Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Any beta mistakes are my own

The various colors of lights were flashing brightly, and the music was booming for the growing teenage crowd; it was a bit much for Oliver.

Yes, he was Little Hangleton's star football quarterback, but he didn't like attending these kinds of things. He'd rather be at home going over the plays or on the field running them. Practice was everything, and precision was essential. That was the Wood Way, which meant there was no other way for Oliver to think.

Which is why he felt so twitchy being out of his element like this. He also felt the sudden case of claustrophobia any time some of his classmates got too close to his wall of solitude. Don't get him wrong, Oliver could talk the pants off someone with his wit, looks, and charm if he chose to, but that's the thing. It was when he _chose_ to; _not_ when he was forced in a social construct that didn't have good taste in musical selections.

Nevertheless, Oliver was here with his friends to celebrate the last time they would begin a year in high school. His friends liked to brush away the fact that Oliver finally agreed to party because he owed Marcus after Marcus made a copy of the fieldhouse keys–so Oliver could still practice when the weather was too bad outfield.

The blond sighed and adjusted his stance on the wall. He rolled and relaxed his shoulders before folding his arms and looking towards the teens dancing around the room. Hands, cups, and glowing accessories were raised in the air as limbs and bodies moved to the beats of the songs. Every other moment, Oliver would find himself nodding to the music, but he would regain sense and stop himself. It wasn't necessary to have hazardous fun, so why draw himself in with the hazardous songs?

"Forget this," he muttered to himself, kicking off the wall to find the kitchen. He could at least have a cup to keep himself occupied and present the 'leave me alone' look to the others.

Oliver maneuvered through the crowd of people as best as he could, occasionally saying 'excuse me' to some while the others needed a good shove–he hoped it would push some kind of sense back in their minds.

He mentally thanked the heavens he found the kitchen in one piece, even if the same couldn't be said about the way the kitchen looked. It was like these kids had no home training when it came to cleanliness! He had to stop himself because he didn't want to be the Debby Downer tonight as he usually was–according to Marcus and Cedric anyhow.

As he strode to and reached for the stack of clean–he prayed they were–red plastic cups, a soft, smaller hand grazed his. Oliver turned his head to apologize, and whatever was going to be said died in his throat.

Her light blue eyes stood out from the black eyeliner on her face, and her pink, parted lips only made the effect she currently had on him worse. He raked through his memories for who she was, but there was no recollection of her identity.

She retracted her hand and brushed her short blonde locks behind her ear. Clearing her throat, she folded her arms over her chest. Oliver tried not to count the lines on her fitting plaid top or on her ripped jeans.

"I don't go to Hangleton High, if that's what you're trying to figure out," she said curtly, raising a brow.

Her voice had cut through his less than subtle action, and he cleared his throat.

"My apologies," he said. "I shouldn't have assumed I knew you."

She waved her hand dismissively and snorted. "Bullshit. You're the star player, so you should obviously know all of your classmates right?" She tilted her head in a teasing manner, and it took a lot in Oliver not to blush. That would do nothing for him at this moment. He could imagine his boys mocking and laughing at his inexperience with the ladies.

"That's what I thought," she continued before shifting her weight to one side and holding out her hand. "I'm Daphne. I'm the cheer captain at Knockturn High, just here with a few girls I met at your school."

Oliver couldn't stop the thought that she certainly had the lean figure for a cheerleader, and he couldn't knock off that she was the cheer captain; she had that authoritative presence that he could respect. Her mere presence left him near speechless after all.

"Oliver," he replied with a nod and shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you officially, Daphne."

She gave him an amused expression. "I already knew your name, Mr Football, but yes, pleased to meet you officially."

As she brought her hand back to her side, Oliver couldn't suppress the faint tint of pink on his cheeks. He tugged at his shirt collar and grabbed two cups; he then held one out for her.

"You were reaching for one of these, right?"

"Yes, I was." She took one of the cups from Oliver and gave him a small yet grateful smile. "Now I want to pour something in here and get an exclusive with the golden boy of Little Hangleton."

Before Oliver responded with the golden boy being someone else, the sensible male in his head kicked and shifted the gears. He grinned and stepped closer to her. She was someone he could share the wall with in the madness of this party; he didn't mind that in the slightest.

"I think we can arrange that."


End file.
